


Rio

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Non-Stop Gifts/AUs [13]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fencing, Future Fic, M/M, Olympics, Vague Non-Stop Verse, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John never thought he'd be here. </p><p>But here he is. </p><p>The Olympics. </p><p>It's not quite what he thought it'd be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rio

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon prompt on tumblr.

There’s silence.  Stadium dark and quiet.  Lafayette’s sitting pitched forward in his seat.  Watching the bright lights that make up the floor.  John hadn’t thought he’d be here.  Hadn’t thought that he was going to make it this far.  His coach had said it as a meandering suggestion.  Go try out, just to see what it’s like.

So he’d tried out.  

And he won.

And won.

And kept on winning.

The piste is a bright white.  And it almost glows.  It’s the final round though.  No matter what, John has a medal.  Alex is all but shaking at Lafayette’s side.  Burr and Madison, usually far more contains, are perched on the edges of their seats.

Even Lafayette’s parents and Pierre are here.  Making up a collection of onlookers and supporters that John never dreamed of having.  

It’s time.

John and Friedrich had trained together for years.  But when it came here, on this stage, Friedrich doesn’t represent America.  He’s standing of Germany.  He’d congratulated John on his success before they set off.  Told him he expects to see him in the final bout, and here John is.  

Here they both are.  

They step up.  Salute each other, the referee, judges, and crowd.  John’s hair is tied back.  His expression is focussed.  Lafayette’s hands rub against each other.  “En garde!” Masks go up.  They fall into position. “Prêts?” John’s knees dip a  little.  “Allez!“

It’s an explosion.

John’s fast.  He’s always been fast.  He lunges forward and he strikes, position perfect. Friedrich parries, blocks.  Lunge.  John flies out of the way and then strike. Point.

They reset.

Alex is chanting under his breath.  “Come on, come on, come on, come on.”

“En garde! Prêts? Allez!”

Friedrich dives.  Parry, jump, point!

Point.

Point.

Friedrich gets in four in a row, John’s mask glowing red after each strike.  But it doesn’t stop John from holding his own.  Getting in bursts of three.  Twisting and tapping in.  So fast that Lafayette can’t follow his sabre as it slices and stabs through the air.

They tie at twelve.

Alex’s hands snap out.  Grab onto Lafayette’s arm.  Squeezing so hard that Lafayette can feel his fingers digging into his skin. “En garde! Prêts? Allez!“

The world slows down.  Friedrich lunges forward, form and posture perfect.  Ready to get his final point in.  And John, just…steps out of the way.  Rotates his body.  The tip misses him, and before Friedrich can turn it into a slash, John’s there. Point. His sabre bending perfectly as it landed in Friedrich’s septime.

He won.

The roar of the crowd is deafening.  Everyone’s on their feet.  John’s mask comes off, Friedrich’s does too.  There’s half a second of courteous saluting to finish the match, and then Friedrich’s snatched John and pulled him into a tight embrace.  Everyone is screaming.

And they’re just hugging.  Hugging and likely saying words no one will ever hear over the roaring.  Alex is standing up on the bars of the balcony, “Yeah! YEAH!” Burr holding the back of his shirt to keep him from toppling over.

The roaring just gets louder and louder.

And it shows no signs of stopping.  Finally the fencers separate, A final salute to the referee, judges, audience.  And John’s team is there.  Coaches, players.  Chanting USA, USA, USA!

By the time the medal ceremony starts, there’s not a dry eye anywhere. John’s crying when they settle Olympic Gold around his neck.

And he’s crying when he steps off the podium, and finally is allowed to run across the arena, up the steps, and into his family’s arms.

***

The Olympic village has it’s own sets of problems.  There are endless amounts of complaints with beds being too small, rooms too clustered, AC not working, etc.  Only certain people with certain passes are allowed past a certain point.  John’s got a room with the rest of his team, and he’s bunking with another boy who he’s been training with for the competition.

And by bunking, Lafayette means that they took one look at the too small room, pulled the end stand out from between the beds and pushed them together.  “I’ll stay with my folks,” John told his teammate the first night. Not technically allowed, but with all the other problems happening in the village—no one was going to say anything so long as John talked actually showed up to practice and matches on time.

“You’re the best,” his teammate told him in return.

Frankly, Lafayette thinks it probably worked out for the best.  It meant that when John’s done giving interviews and smiling for cameras, he can slip his hand into Lafayette’s and together they can head back to the hotel.  “You want to fuck a gold medalist?” John asks him lewdly.  

“I have been for years,” Lafayette tells him.  “You’ve always been a gold medalist in my heart.”  It’s stupid and sappy, but he couldn’t care less.  It makes John’s cheeks blush and his lips quirk up in a small smile.  He taps his head against Lafayette’s shoulder, and it’s so easy to just wrap an arm around his body and hold him close.  Grinning.

The medal hangs from John’s neck.  Glistening brightly.  He’s taken a million pictures already, and he’ll likely take a few more before he’s done.  “I’m a gold medalist.”  He’s said that probably four times in the past hour.  Bouncing on his toes.  “I’m a gold medalist!” And there’s the fifth.

Lafayette ducks his head and kisses John senseless.  Relishing how John sighs and arches into his body.  How he kisses back just as passionately.  They really, really, need to get back to the hotel soon.  

“Race you,” Lafayette says.  Slipping his hand around John’s and taking off.  They run.  John laughing behind him as they go.  He’s got just enough adrenaline left in his system to get across the campus.  Out to the hotel.  Right up to their room.

They promised they’d meet the others for dinner in a few hours.  Celebrations bound to take place then.  But Pierre had wisely suggested that they’re left alone for a little bit, and Lafayette’s going to buy the man the biggest Thank You Present he ever received when this is over.

He can’t wait to get John on the bed.  And from how John looks when he smiles at him.  He can’t wait either.

Can’t wait to strip John out of his uniform.  To lay him out on the bed, stretched and perfect.  Get some lotion and rub ad John’s shoulder.  Over the scars and aching movements.  Over the pain that always seeps in when he’s done.  Rub at each muscle as John whimpers beneath him.  As Lafayette presses in close.  Whispers in his ear.  “Just a little longer, lapin…just a little longer.”

And when he finally lets John roll over.  Finally helps give him his relief, Lafayette knows. They’ll leave the medal around John’s neck.

Shimmering gold.  It’s exactly what John deserves.

***

Dinner takes place in the hotel.  Once the adrenaline’s burnt out of John, he’s done.  He’s existing in a hazy daze of holy hell what the fuck just happened? And he’s done.  He’d probably have stayed in bed for a week if Lafayette hadn’t dragged him up.  Forced him into his Appropriate Olympic Attire, and set him onto his feet.  He keeps an arm around John’s waist and guides him too and fro.  Settles him into his chair at the table where everyone talks blisteringly fast, and John can only nod his head.  

Poke at the pasta he’s told he needs to eat for energy.  Doze on Lafayette’s shoulder.  The food’s good, though.  And the general air of excitement is extraordinary.  Phone calls have been placed, and facetimes were exchanged.  Skypes and twitter updates.  Samantha and Marty both gave John their well wishes and were cheering for him the whole time back in America.  They’re out to dinner too, celebrating John a whole continent away.

“What the fuck?” Alex mutters.  Lafayette looks toward him.  He’s on his phone.  Frowning at it as he scans whatever he’s reading.  

Burr asks, “What is it?” and leans over.  Squints at the screen.  His expression turns tight.  At Lafayette’s side, John’s almost completely asleep.  Face slack and body sagging so much that he really should be in bed.  At least he managed half his plate.

“Care to share with the class?” Madison presses when both Burr and Alex remain quiet.

“A reporter just outed something like eight Olympians, and implied who another twelve or so were.” John jerks. The words catching him just right.  Spearing through his consciousness before he can manage to ignore them completely.  His eyes snap open.  He looks at Alex.  Expression flat.  Lafayette’s hand finds his under the table.

There’s a flash of anger.  Hot and violent.  Snapping through John’s eyes.  His fingers squeeze down tightly around Lafayette’s palm.  Tension rising.  “How?” he asks.  

“Grindr.  Went on Grindr, and Tinder, and a few other dating apps and started searches for hook ups.  Then when he got them he outed them, country, medal count, physical descriptions.  He kept from using names, but, what the fuck does it matter?” Alex throws the phone onto the table in disgust.  “You can tell who they are.”

John reaches out his hand and plucks the phone from where it’d strayed.  Turns it over to read the article.  It doesn’t take much for Lafayette to lean over and look with him.  Given John’s history with being outed online via reporting, his reaction is  not unexpected.

He’s furious.

“Breathe,” Lafayette tells him.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” John growls out.  “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“John—”

“—Those people could get killed for this! Their families could disown them! They could lose their jobs, their livelihoods, their—” He cuts himself off.  Breathing hard.  He’s shaking.  He doesn’t physically have the energy to fight this fight right now.  Not after how much he’s exerted already today.

“Let me look into it,” Pierre offers.  Lafayette’s parents murmur to him.  Asking if he’s sure he wants to get involved.  But the answer is almost assuredly Yes.  There are few things in life Pierre stops everything and rearranges his schedule for.  Lafayette and John are two of them.  And he hates it when John’s upset.

More than that, he hates it when the reason John’s upset is entirely valid and substantiated.  Lafayette really hopes the reporter doesn’t get a good lawyer.  Because the idea that he’s going to get torn apart for this makes Lafayette very happy.

He can’t wait to see him burn.

From where he’s sitting?  Even the harshest punishment seems too light.

John’s furious.

And the next day, when he’s asked to give his ten-millionth interview, he makes his case known.  “As an athlete who was publicly outed in the media when I was still trying to come to terms with my own life—that journalists would use click-bait to out Olympians is one of the most disgusting, and personally revolting part of this whole experience.  You have the best athletes in the world here, and you respond by proving why you don’t have a place in these games.  Closet your homophobia, and stop attacking people for having a life.  It made mine hell, but at least I had a support system in place.  Not everybody does, Daily Fail.”

He wasn’t asked for another interview again.

Shockingly, John didn’t seem to care.

He already had his Olympic gold.  He didn’t need their validation, or their support.  He had his own. But like he said.  Not everyone did.  And the reporting cast a shadow on the games.  

It always would.

Really.  People could do better.  


End file.
